Don't Say A Word
by megami juhachigou
Summary: B/V eventually. After Bulma is raped in nighttime Satan City, she won't talk to anyone. When it pushes Vegeta over the edge, she leaves home, but will Vegeta have the heart to bring her home? Because someone is still after Bulma...
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: If you actually think I would own Dragonball Z, then you have worse problems than I do…  
  
A/N - A bit of writer's block on my main fic "A Witch's Love" has brought a surprising turn of events. Another B/V, with a bit of a darker undertone. If this gets enough reviews, I may continue both this and "Witch" simultaneously. Anyway, read and please review, I'd love you all ^_~  
  
Don't Say A Word - Chapter 1  
By megamijuhachigou  
  
Bulma stumbled quickly as she could in her unnecessarily high heels along the nighttime streets of Satan City, clutching her briefcase tight to her chest. She had stopped keeping track of time around 4, but guessed it was somewhere between 8 and 9. Most of the shops were closed or closing, and the more respectable patrons of the city moved indoors away from what might await them in the darkened alleys of the teeming urban night life.  
  
"Damn Vegeta and his damn training," she muttered as she caught her heel on yet another sewer cover. She lurched forward, but straightened up and continued along her path, sweeping her gaze from side to side, watching if anyone had managed to notice her blunder.  
  
Ah, yes, Vegeta, the source of one too many problems and more to come. She had called the arrogant Saiya-jin from the north office telling him she would be running late and asking him to come pick her up. He had "humphed" and since there was no blatant refusal, it was the closest thing to a yes she would have expected to come from his lips.  
  
It wasn't that the walk home from the north office was far, but it was night and there was the matter of those heels…  
  
Just as if the thought triggered it, a crack in the sidewalk caught Bulma's shoe, and this time she did topple over, waving her arms to no effect and slamming face first into the concrete, her briefcase sliding a good ten feet away. "Owiee…" She pushed herself up onto her knees, and tore a run into her pantyhose. "Fuck. These were new too…"  
  
"Do you need some help, miss?"  
  
"Huh?" Bulma looked up to see a man standing next to her, holding her bag in one hand and offering the other to help her stand. Her face flushed, and felt like such a klutz, making herself into a complete fool by falling like that and even worse that this time someone had noticed, even if he was helping her, and even if he was pretty cute. She took his hand in hers and his strong grip pulled her back to her feet.  
  
"You shouldn't be alone out here on a night like this." He handed her the case and she took it obligingly.  
  
"I know. A…friend was supposed to pick me up but he…got sidetracked." Ha, a friend, that was good. Sidetracked? Even better. A rude bastard who thought training was more important seemed like a better response, but Bulma said nothing to this effect. Being a business woman as well as a scientist had taught her that sometimes, there are just certain things that should remain fogged over.  
  
"There are some real creeps out at a time like this, just looking for a woman like you to take advantage of."  
  
"That why I'm in such a rush."  
  
"People like me for one."  
  
"What!?" As Bulma let that statement sink in, the man knocked her to the ground and covered her mouth with one of his large hands before she could cry out. She struggled against his grip, kicking and flailing her arms, but to no avail. He was much to strong and easily over-powered her.  
  
"Take whatever you want," she was close to tears, but managed to regain some of her composure, "just don't hurt me."  
  
He laughed, a harsh bitter sound like metal scraping against glass. "You're in no positions to be making offers Miss Briefs…"  
  
***  
  
"…injuries aren't too severe. She should be recuperated by morning."  
  
Bulma struggled to open her eyes to the unfamiliar voice talking about her. She was lying on a table at the nearby doctor's office. "Wh-wha…"  
  
"Bulma, you're okay!" Chichi pushed her way forward to be by the woman's side. Goku was there also, so Gohan wouldn't be far off.  
  
"We were really worried about you, you know," Goku said in his jovial way that just made Bulma smile, "after what the doctor said and all about you…" His voice trailed off as he couldn't bear to say the words.  
  
"What do you mean?" Bulma struggled to sit up.  
  
"You were raped, woman."  
  
Bulma turned to the side, eyes wide with shock to see that Vegeta had even come, but even more in shock about what he had said. He memory of what had gone on avoided her. He had thrown her to the ground and then everything was just…black.  
  
"Vegeta!" Chichi snapped.  
  
"Well, it's true. Why shouldn't I tell her?"  
  
That made even Goku mad, and his voice got that serious tone. "This is serious Vegeta, not some laughing matter."  
  
"Well then, perhaps I should just step out of the room. With that, he turned and left, without another word.  
  
Bulma opened her mouth to say something, but the doctor stepped forward. "Don't say a word. You need all the strength you can manage. It would be best if you could go back to sleep for now." Bulma nodded and lay back on the table, a muddle of emotions trapped behind her closed eyelids.  
  
A/N - So? Whatcha think? Don't forget to review ^_~ 


	2. 

A/N - If something is in italics outside of a dialogue, these are Bulma's thoughts, which are also in first person narration.  
  
Don't Say A Word - Chapter 2  
  
By megamijuhachigou  
  
"No, transfer the files to G13, and then cancel the Brackman account…uh huh…uh huh…yes, then you can reopen the A2 labs, but you have to wait for the confirmation…uh huh…okay, bye."  
  
Bulma sighed and pulled the headset off her ears, letting it fall loosely around her neck. She was sitting cross-legged in bed, a blue robe wrapped around her body and papers flung everywhere in some sort of pseudo- organization. She may be bedridden for a week to recover from "mental trauma," but she was bound and determined to get as much work done as possible. She had just started to flip through a pile of documents when a light knock on the door broke her concentration.  
  
"Are you doing all right, dear?" Mrs. Briefs stuck her head through a crack she opened in the door.  
  
"Yes, mother, I'm fine. "Bulma rubbed her temples as an instant headache formed behind her eyes. "I thought I told you I was busy and didn't want to be disturbed."  
  
"Oh, I know, but Yamcha came over and wanted to talk to you, said it was important. I don't know why you broke up, he's such a sweet man."  
  
Bulma sighed and rose out of bed, trying to disturb her work as little as possible. She followed her mother down the hallway and over to the staircase where her ex-boyfriend was waiting at the bottom. His face warmed up at the first sight of Bulma, and she couldn't help but smile weakly back, as much for him as for herself.  
  
"I'm so glad to see you." Yamcha swept her up in a tight embrace and led her over into the common room. "When I head about what happened I just–"  
  
"It's okay, Yamcha," Bulma sat down on the couch and took a pastry from the tray her mother had so thoughtfully prepared, "you don't need to say anything about it." Realizing how hungry she was, she stuffed the cake in her mouth and reached for another.  
  
Yamcha helped himself to a cake as well, but just sat staring at it. "I should have been there for you. You should have called me to pick you up instead of that ignorant bastard Vegeta."  
  
Bulma stopped mid-bite to soak in what he had said. Why had she called Vegeta to pick her up? She remembered vaguely the conversation they'd had, how she had ended up hanging up the phone on him. Perhaps she had been hoping to change him into a decent member of society. Well semi-decent at any rate.  
  
She sighed and put the food back on the plate. "You can't blame yourself for this, it's not your fault."  
  
"Listen, I'm going to get straight top the point. I want to get back together with you.  
  
"Yamcha–"  
  
He held a hand out to silence her. "Just hear me out, Bulma. Last week we agreed to…see other people, and I was okay with that. But a few days later, I mean, look what happened. I died when your mother told me, but what hurt me more is that you wouldn't tell me yourself. I don't want us to grow apart. I want to be here for you, to protect you. I love you."  
  
"Yamcha, I-I can't, I'm sorry." Bulma stood up from the couch and walked quickly back to the stairs, her slippers sliding a bit on the linoleum flooring.  
  
"Bulma, just–" He reached out to grab her arm and pull her back but she twisted around sharply.  
  
"No, stop it!"  
  
"No, stop it!" I cried as the man pushed me hard against the brick all of the alley, one hand pressing against my collarbone, the other fighting to restrain my fists as I tried to gain some sort of control. He pressed his dirty sex against my stomach and licked my ear as he whispered.  
  
"There's no use in fighting. You know you can't win…"  
  
* * *  
  
"…Bulma, Bulma!"  
  
She was crying somehow, she felt the hot tears streaming down her face, though she didn't know why or how. She didn't think she had the strength to cry anymore after that first terrible night. Blinking back the salty fluid in her eyes, she looked up to see Yamcha and her mother, the former distraught and the latter confused.  
  
"We were so worried about you!" The high pitched shrill of Mrs. Briefs voice broke the temporary silence as Bulma regained control. "Yamcha said you cried out and fell and we didn't know what had happened…"  
  
"I-I just blacked out is all, fell on the tile and hit my head." Bulma struggled to stand but decided for the time being that laying was better.  
  
Yamcha eyes looked unsure as he sought out her own. "But you didn't even fall at first…"  
  
"I fell." Bulma glared back at him. "No, if you excuse me, I have work to do."  
  
"Okay dear, well you get back upstairs then." Seeing the immediate danger was avoided, Mrs. Briefs hurried back to the kitchen, reading to prepare lunch.  
  
Yamcha turned away, not wanting to look at Bulma as she ascended the staircase. But he was almost certain he heard sobbing as the door closed shut behind her.  
  
"You just don't know when to quit do you?"  
  
Yamcha turned around to see a disgruntled Vegeta standing in the front doorway, his torn clothing covered in a mix of blood and sweat in proof that he had just been out training. "What do you want?"  
  
"I want you to get the fuck out. You've already caused enough trouble in this house, and your beginning to piss me off just standing there."  
  
"I'm causing trouble? At least I'm not a pathetic freeloader who doesn't care jack shit about anything, or anyone."  
  
Vegeta spat and walked up to his adversary, using his Saiya-jin pride to make up for his lack of height as he glared less than warmly into Yamcha's eyes. "I thought I told you to get the fuck out."  
  
Knowing he couldn't afford a confrontation, let alone survive one, Yamcha broke the gaze and turned to the door. "If it were up to me, you would have been shipped first-class to whatever damn planet you came from. You're just lucky Bulma's such a wonder person she doesn't give a damn how much of a bastard you are."  
  
Vegeta laughed. "If Bulma's such a wonderful person, then why don't you take her and get that bitch off my hands."  
  
"I would if I could." He slammed the door behind, leaving the Saiya-jin prince all alone.  
  
And Vegeta liked it that way. 


End file.
